


Sokovian Studies

by freudensteins_monster



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Darcy Lewis's Bodyguards - Freeform, F/M, First Impressions, First Meetings, Self-Rescuing Princess, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudensteins_monster/pseuds/freudensteins_monster
Summary: It was Darcy’s mother, a multilingual US diplomat who dragged her daughter wherever in the world she was stationed, who nagged Darcy until she declared Political Science as her major, but it was her soulmark that inspired Darcy to minor in Sokovian Studies.It was her third bodyguard, a true son of Sokovia named Vedran, who told her what the writing on her collarbone really meant. Up until that point her well-meaning parents had Darcy believing the unfamiliar words said “you’re beautiful,” but her bodyguard took one look at her words and burst out laughing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst wandering morosely through my WIP folder last night I rediscovered this fic and it actually looked finished. I know, I’m surprised too. Thanks to ladyaudiophile for double checking for me, and look dresupi! I finally finished a Quicktaser fic!!

It was Darcy’s mother, a multilingual US diplomat who dragged her daughter wherever in the world she was stationed, who nagged Darcy until she declared Political Science as her major, but it was her soulmark that inspired Darcy to minor in Sokovian Studies.

** *** **

It was her third bodyguard, a true son of Sokovia named Vedran, who told her what the writing on her collarbone really meant. Up until that point her well-meaning parents had Darcy believing the unfamiliar words said “you’re beautiful,” but her bodyguard took one look at her words and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” the then-eight year old demanded.

“Your words are funny,” he replied.

“No they’re not,” the child pouted. “My soulmate thinks I’m beautiful.”

“That’s not what they say, little one.”

When he told Darcy what they really meant she kicked him in the shin and locked herself in her room for the better part of the day. 

She stomped out of her room for dinner and with a mouthful of soup demanded that Vedran teach her Sokovian. Vedran had only known the girl a week but found himself sympathising with little Darcy’s future soulmate.

(The second thing Darcy learnt to say in Sokovian, the first being the words on her collarbone, was “For the love of God, Darcy! Don’t you ever shut up?”)

** *** **

It was her fifth bodyguard, a no-nonsense former Green Beret, that gave Darcy her taser and taught her how to use it. And it was her seventh and final bodyguard, a French guy young enough to pass as a high school student (who quit after six months babysitting Darcy to move to New Zealand and grow truffles), who taught her how to make fake IDs.  After she got the hell out of Puerto Antigo she sent them both a thank you note attached to bottle of scotch.

It was her sixth bodyguard, a quietly spoken Englishman (who Darcy swore was James Bond), who taught her how to drive. After the invasion of the most terrifying Christmas elves ever Darcy looked him up and bought him a pint.

** *** **

Darcy sat on Jane’s couch in London and watched Sokovia fall out of the sky, a hand clasped over her mouth as tears streamed down her face. She sobbed and clawed at her chest as her words seemed to burn out. By the time she stumbled into the bathroom to check her mark in the mirror the pain had stopped and to her overwhelming relief her words were as black as they’d ever been. Her relief was followed by a wave of guilt as she thought about the travesty that had befallen her soulmate’s homeland and all of the unfortunate people whose marks had faded to grey in the space of a few hours. Darcy promised to remember how lucky she was when she finally met him, regardless of how asshole-ish his first words seemed to be.

Soon after the fall of Sokovia Jane (and Darcy) had been invited to make the Avengers upstate facility her base of operations. When Thor returned to Asgard they stayed put for about an hour before packing up and continuing to chase astronomical anomalies around the world. Darcy had hoped to stay on a bit longer so she could have the chance to practise her Sokovian with “the wonder twins,” but perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t get to meet them. She’d probably make a great first impression by blurting out something ridiculously insensitive, like “Sorry your country got blown up.” 

** *** **

The pair returned to the US before the end of the year in time for Jane to start a cross country lecture series. And it was while Jane was busy geeking out over Yerkes Observatory in Chicago, the so-called “the birthplace of modern astrophysics,” that Darcy decided to bow out and spend Thanksgiving with her parents who were currently living out a hotel room in Washington DC until her mother got her next posting. 

Darcy had barely exited the airport before some asshole grabbed her and threw her into a nondescript van. She didn’t know whether it was Jane’s job or her mother’s job that had put Darcy on their radar, but as she cowered on the floor of spotless van with a bag over her head she decided it really didn’t matter.

** *** **

It was her second bodyguard, a boring, perpetually smug American with a penchant for nondescript suits, who drilled kidnapping protocols into her young mind. It was her second bodyguard who taught her how to pay attention to her surroundings even when blindfolded, and to measure distance, direction and time travelled in her head. It was her second bodyguard who taught her how to send messages during a ransom video.

** *** **

When the news of Darcy’s abduction reached Tony Stark, first as a frantic phone call from Dr Foster and then as a request for aid from some high level politician on behalf of Darcy’s mother, only the spysassins and the wonder twins were available for an assemble. He had just started his briefing when FRIDAY passed on the ransom video.

“My name is Darcy Lewis and as of 11:15 this morning I was alive and well. That will change if my captor’s demands aren’t met. They want Dr Foster’s research on Einstein-Rosen bridges and her data from her real world trials as well as 5 million dollars deposited to this bank account. Place the hard drives in a black brief case and leave it under a bench at the bus stop at the corner of Mill Road and Eisenhower Avenue. You have until 5:45pm to comply or I’ll be getting a bullet to the brain in time for the six o’clock news.” 

Tony swore as the screen went dark.

“FRIDAY, have Jane and Mrs Lewis seen this?”

“Yes, boss. Dr Foster is currently packing up her data and requesting that a quinjet be sent to pick her up. Miss Lewis’ parents are reviewing their financial statements as we speak.”

“Tell them to stop. Don’t they watch movies – we don’t negotiate with terrorists. Trace the source of the video. We-”

Tony paused midsentence and turned to his fellow Avengers. The newest additions were standing awkwardly to the side awaiting orders whilst the more experienced members were reviewing street maps and traffic cams on a couple of holoscreens Tony didn’t remember giving them.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Darcy sent us a message,” Natasha replied without taking her eyes off the screen.

“When?” Tony retorted. “Before or after she cried over her impending death by execution?”

“The children of diplomats are trained to send messages if they're in trouble,” Natasha replied boredly. “She was using hand signals and tapping the letters on  [ her shirt ](https://www.threadless.com/product/7719/I_m_Sorry_For_What_I_Said_When_I_Was_Hungry) to pass on a message.”

Tony turned back to his own screen and replayed Darcy’s message, without the emotionally wrought audio, and sure enough what he, and apparently her captors, had dismissed as nervous fidgeting was actually a code.

“What did she say?”

“Five minutes north. Bridge. Five minutes east. Bridge. 50 minutes north-east. Twenty minutes north-west.”

“There!” Clint announced, pointing out a single car in an array of traffic cam footage. “Black van. I-95. Indigo-Alpha-Four-Indigo-Mike-Niner.”

“FRIDAY, run it.”

“On it, boss. … It looks like it’s owned by a shell corporation that links back to the terrorist organisation A.I.M.”

“So the head of the snake grew back? Friggin Extremis,” Tony muttered irritably. 

“Looks like it, boss. No idea who’s running the show now but facial recognition identified the driver of the van as one of Aldrich Killian’s former employees.”

“We got a location on our girl yet?”

“Sorry, boss. I lost the van outside Baltimore but I’ve found three buildings in the area that are owned by different shell companies tied to A.I.M. or their associates.”

“Any on the north-west side of town.”

“One, boss.”

“Alright, suit up.”

** *** **

It was her fourth bodyguard, a terrifying flamed haired Russian woman, who taught Darcy how to pick locks with the makeshift lock picks she still sewed into the waists of all her jeans. It was her fourth bodyguard who taught her how to memorise a building’s layout and how evade capture. It was her fourth bodyguard who taught her how to ignore the sound of gunfire. 

** *** **

Darcy reached an exit without much trouble, threw open the door and was greeted by an unfamiliar face, so she reacted.

** *** **

It was her first bodyguard, a retired US Army major whom she called ‘dad,’ that taught her self-defence and complimented her on her mean right hook.

** *** **

She ignored the blood gushing from the stranger’s nose and booked it across the street to a late model car which she quickly hotwired (Jane taught her that – every vehicle the astrophysicist had ever owned was a P.O.S.).

“Doesn’t she realise this is a rescue?” Clint mused as he stumbled into the sunlight, ignoring the wounded Pietro. 

Darcy tried to flee the scene but a ball of eerie red magic stopped the car by lifting it a whole foot off the ground. A red-haired woman in a black cat suit stepped in front of the frozen car, arching one perfect eyebrow to compliment her amused expression.

“Get out of the car, Darcy.”

“… Nadia?! Holy shit!” Darcy squealed, falling out of the car and racing over to her former bodyguard. She aborted an attempt to hug the Avenger, resorting to freaking out on the spot whilst Nadia/Natasha smiled at her. “You’re Black Widow?! That’s so cool! Wait…” Darcy paused, going over their time together in her head. “Were you supposed to kill my mom?”

“No, just observe and steal intel from time to time.”

“Oh. Okay, cool,” Darcy replied, unable to stop smiling. “It’s really great to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you again too, _malyutka_ ,” Natasha replied fondly, reaching out to brush the other woman’s hair out of her face. “Come on,” she added, urging the woman back towards the now smouldering building. “Let me introduce you to the rest of your rescue party.”

“Hey, I was doing fine on my own.”

“I know,” Natasha smirked.

“But thanks for coming for me,” Darcy added bashfully. 

“Always,” Natasha assured her. “This is my partner Clint - Hawkeye. And these are the Maximoff twins, Wanda and Pietro. Did you do that?” she asked, pointing to Pietro’s nose.

“I didn’t know who he was,” Darcy shrugged apologetically. 

“Nice hit,” Clint remarked, laughing as he watched Pietro try to hold his shirt up to his nose to stem the blood flow.

“I think it will look better now,” his sister commented, reaching out to poke at it. 

“My nose was fine before,” Pietro muttered angrily as he pulled out of her reach only to get a series of noncommittal shrugs in return. “Oh, you’re all assholes.  _ And you’re a fucking bitch _ ,” he added, glaring at Darcy as he cursed her out in Sokovian. 

Again, Darcy reacted. “ _ That’s no way to talk to your soulmate! _ ”

“What?” Pietro stammered over his sister’s hysterics.

“What just happened?” Clint demanded, his ever observant eyes failing him as they darted between the pair.

“They just exchanged soulwords,” Natasha surmised.

“Ah, so that explains why grumpy here always wants to go back to Sokovia in his down time,” the archer smirked.

“So,” Darcy blushed. “You got one of those fancy quinjets stashed around here somewhere? Or are we catching the train home?” Natasha led the way and the rest of the team followed her. Well, most of them. “Come on,” Darcy encouraged, reaching out to take the stunned Pietro by the hand. “I’ll introduce you to my folks after I tell them I totally rescued myself. My mom’s going to hate you,” Darcy laughed.

“Why?” Pietro managed as he gingerly tried to wipe the blood from his face. 

“She wanted me to minor in Law,” Darcy smirked.

**Author's Note:**

> I stole the “children of diplomats are trained to send messages if they’re in trouble” bit from an episode of White Collar.
> 
> When I originally wrote this fic, like 4 months ago, I could of sworn malyutka meant 'little one' but a current check of google translate tells me it more likely means 'baby' or 'babe'. :/ But another reference assures me it can mean little one/small one/little girl etc. Russian speaks please don't hate me. <3


End file.
